spectrum / pink tree

Change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn, and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass. -- John Steinbeck, Sweet Thursday

change is inevitable, we all know that. the way the light move across the room, the way a tree sheds its leaves & grow new ones after the rain. it goes on and on, though most of the time, unnoticed. perhaps we've gotten used to it, not having something in our grasps for too long, we're born with it, we grow. i thought about it, change, on the train to work today.the more i think about it, it gets overwhelmingly depressing, but also, full of joy. how can something be both, i wonder? maybe this falls under my list of nonsensical thoughts, does anyone else consciously pick a topic to think about on their spare time? ha. when it comes naturally -- we think of something & it relates to something else, wind up to another something something. there, change too. curious but certain. we don't think about it much, do we? not in its context, we just know when it happens.

the pink tree.

the pink tree.

there's a pink-flowered tree across the road from where we live. in august it bloomed, striking pale pink flowers seen from afar. i woke up in the mornings & stood at the balcony, watched how it changed as weeks passed by. until one day i couldn't take it anymore, grabbed the camera, crossed the road & took a million photos with hundreds of fallen, rotting pink petals under my feet. i was running out of time. by end of august there were nothing left but branches. i could only hope next august, it'll come back to life again.

things, relationships, hair, assortments of stuff on the desk, plants. the little things change, big ones too. an endless flow of now & then. change is such a graceful thing, really, when it's kind. when it's not our lives go differently in countless ways. the closest thing to it is time, and time change. although, sometimes, just sometimes, some change is reversible. embrace what we can. there is no end.

mess.

mess.

i could almost hear Ken telling me, when he came to read this --don't tire yourself out thinking about these things. things we can't change. like the time i read a novel & babble about 'what ifs' before bedtime, he'd said, if we do nothing, scared of what'll happen, there is no life to that (ok, he said -- there's no need to be alive!) which is true, too. i'd like to think that's progress in itself. stagnant. cos we'll always change. one way or another.